


Discoveries

by DoodlesOfTheMind



Category: Naruto
Genre: ANBU - Freeform, Beginnings, Camaraderie, Choices, Class Differences, Duty, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Shisui
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:52:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6843763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoodlesOfTheMind/pseuds/DoodlesOfTheMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For clarity (though I'm told the characterization was spot-on):</p><p>Itachi is Crow<br/>Kakashi is Hound<br/>Genma is Viper<br/>Ibiki is Bear</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Four ANBU shinobi crept through the dense forests of the Konoha-Kiri borderlands. Their leader, a silver-haired man whose porcelain mask evoked the image of a canine, flashed a few quick hand signals to the men behind him. _Target spotted. Approach with caution._

They moved forward more carefully now, all of them grateful for the rain that masked their scents and softened the sticks and leaves so they made no sound under their feet. Even Hound, whose senses were naturally enhanced as part of his lifetime contract with a pack of ninken, hardly noticed the presence of the three soldiers at his back.

It wasn’t two full minutes before they reached the edge of the treeline. There, a hundred yards out, a squad of Kiri shinobi had set up camp. _So bold, to stop this close to Konoha territory,_ the Captain thought.

There was the faintest flicker of chakra as one of his squadmates drew even with him. It was deliberate, Hound knew, an effort not to startle him when he broke their loose formation. He glanced down at the smaller man—a boy, really, only twelve years old. A boy, but certainly not a child. Crow had earned his place among them, and he proved it again as his left hand formed the sign for _Trap._ Hound smiled behind his mask and nodded. _Your call_ , he signed. _Your eyes._

He could only just see the faint crimson glow through the eye slits in his squadmate’s mask, but the Sharingan was unmistakable. He had one of his own, but even after all this time, he wasn’t truly proficient in its use. Crow would unravel any genjutsu defenses much more quickly, and he would expend less energy doing it.

There was a second flare of chakra and another of his men appeared beside him, eyeing the camp with obvious impatience. _Move in?_ Viper signed, his free hand absently twirling a pair of senbon.

Hound shook his head and took a step back so Crow was ahead of him. It signaled that the boy was in command. Viper cocked his head to the side like a curious puppy, making an unofficial, but common hand sign that could be roughly translated as _Shodai’s balls, have you lost your goddamn mind?_ But then, he was newly assigned to their squad, and he had never seen their youngest soldier in action. Hound, however, had witnessed the boy’s abilities firsthand many times, and he had no qualms about giving him the reins. Crow would make Captain within the next three years, guaranteed. Maybe sooner if ANBU lived up to its creed of judging members without regard for age, rank, or ancestry.

Crow raised his hand and flashed a series of precise signals. _Hound right. Bear and Viper left. Crow on point. Five targets positioned thirty-two yards ahead, seventy yards closer than illusion. Primary target is mine. Will disable genjutsu before engaging._ Hound stepped behind Crow and took up his position to the right while Viper slipped back to allow Bear, the oldest and tallest of their squad, to come forward on Crow’s left.

Crow held up three fingers. Then two. Then one. Then the attack began.

True to his word, the genjutsu shattered a quarter of a second before Crow shunshin’ed forward, his ninjato blurring as he drew it from the sheath at his back. The camp in the distance winked out and reappeared in front of them, seemingly out of thin air. Five Kiri shinobi leapt up from their positions around a small fire in alarm. Only one made it to his feet alive, and only because Crow had his blade at the man’s neck, a thin line of scarlet beading against the steel.

It was Hound who spoke, a standing agreement between himself and Crow; a voice that sometimes cracked with the onset of puberty held no threat, even if his hands were deadly. “Well, look what we found, boys. If it isn’t Sato Raiden, the little rat in the crawlspace that leaked the plans for the assassination of the Yondaime Mizukage. Fancy meeting you here.”

A low sound came from Bear’s chest, and Hound’s blood ran cold as he realized that this target was not going to make it to the planned public execution. Bear was on the fast track to become head of Konoha’s Torture and Interrogation Force, and he had no patience for certain crimes. After all, the mission parameters didn’t technically specify whether _capture_ or _kill_ was the preferable outcome.

Crow also seemed to feel the shift in the atmosphere, and his blade caught the firelight as he adjusted his grip. He brought it down in one quick motion, sidestepping the deluge of blood from Raiden’s throat. With his back to his team, he flicked the weapon out to the side and slid it home into its sheath.

Bear took a furious step toward him, but Hound put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. In a way, he agreed with Crow’s decision to give the man a clean death. The things Bear could do...it was sickening to imagine, even if it was more than deserved for prolonging another needless conflict and leading to hundreds more lives lost.

He remembered then that Crow had seen Bear’s “work” on the Kusa border not a full month ago. He wouldn’t have to imagine it. He’d been there for it. Helped him do it.

Viper grumbled something about disappointment and wasted effort, the first words any of Hound’s squadmates had spoken since what passed for dawn in the mists of the East, but he fell silent when Crow turned toward him. Hound shouldn’t know the expression that mask concealed, he shouldn’t know the fury that shone in the boy’s hidden eyes, but he did. They were his own, if he allowed himself to feel them. For Viper to claim to be so callously annoyed that a man hadn’t died screaming was disgusting. Or it would have been if it were how the man truly felt. ANBU taught one to bury the horror that came with such a life deep in the darkest recesses of one’s mind, and every soldier had his own way of coping.

Crow took a step back and bowed his head, signalling that he relinquished command of the mission back to Hound now that his part was done. He watched dispassionately as Bear finished severing Raiden’s head from his shoulders and sealed the gruesome trophy into a scroll as proof that the kill was made.

           

The journey back to Konoha was subdued, though the it lacked the sharp focus of the trek eastward. Bear’s quiet anger, Viper’s post-mission litany of complaints, and Crow’s aloof silence were nothing new.

What _was_ new was Hound’s discomfort. Did Crow seem more withdrawn than usual? He had deliberately taken the rear position for the return trip, rather than his customary place behind his Captain where his doujutsu could be of use to scout ahead. When they stopped to rest, the young shinobi kept his distance from his squadmates, and Hound noted the way his long, slender fingers would brush his unlatched kunai holster for reassurance, then jerk away as if the worn leather had burned him. The third time this happened, Crow realized he was being observed and let his hand fall to his side. It stayed there, relaxed and loose, with no tension or trembling to give away his earlier behavior. A perfect example of shinobi discipline.

Hound wasn’t fooled. He approached the younger boy cautiously, staying in his line of sight. Crow leaned slightly away from the invasion of his space, but he stayed where he was, and Hound saw a very slight tensing of his shoulders before the boy spoke.

“Please forgive my rash behavior this morning, Hound-taichou.” His quiet voice was pitched to carry over to where Bear sat without making it obvious that this was his intent. Hound noted that he had _not_ apologized for the decision he had made or admitted any wrongdoing, only asked that his Captain forgive him. At most, he would concede that he had acted without giving full consideration to the consequences, but then he would fall back on the fact that he had been within his rights to kill the man, and no harm had come to Konoha or his comrades because of it.

Hound sighed. Political maneuvering came as naturally as breathing to Crow. Anonymity was at the core of ANBU, but as often as not, an agent’s identity on the other side of the mask was known to at least some of his comrades. Hound knew more about Crow than he did most of his fellow soldiers. He knew the boy’s name, Itachi. He knew that he was the celebrated prodigy of the Uchiha and the heir to his clan. He had even met the boy’s parents on more than one occasion thanks to his association with another shinobi of their bloodline not so long ago.

“Nothing to forgive,” Hound grunted. “You had command, you made a call.”

Crow bowed his head in acceptance, a gesture that could be interpreted as guilt, or perhaps regret if Bear wanted to be charitable. Hound knew it was nothing of the sort. It was hardly a crime to save a man from being tortured for no other purpose than retribution.

“I should have made the same choice,” Hound said under his breath. “Thank you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarity (though I'm told the characterization was spot-on):
> 
> Itachi is Crow  
> Kakashi is Hound  
> Genma is Viper  
> Ibiki is Bear


	2. Chapter 2

“Again,” Itachi ordered, kneeling across from Kakashi on the wide, traditional porch of the Uchiha manor. Ever since that mission, they had somehow begun finding themselves here, but it still felt strange to be together as Jounin rather than as ANBU shinobi. It was disorienting to use each other’s names openly, to sit in such close proximity where they could be seen. To be out of uniform and unmasked. Well, Kakashi still wore the black fabric that had concealed the lower half of his face since he was a child, but it was part of him in a way that the white porcelain form of the Hound would never be. Itachi’s face, however, was completely exposed, and the Uchiha heir’s pale, almost delicate features stood out in stark relief against his raven hair.

The only thing that told him Itachi was not entirely comfortable with what they were doing was the awkward level of polite formality that the boy maintained with him, never once smiling or engaging in unnecessary conversation. He wouldn’t even use Kakashi’s given name, despite his half-joking insistence that “Hatake-senpai” made him feel old. Perhaps it was because these meetings always took place at his family’s home, in the full sight of his clan, but Itachi never relaxed.

Kakashi wiped the sweat from his face with the back of one gloved hand before he locked his gaze back on the whirling tomoe of the younger boy’s Sharingan. His surroundings blurred, and he found himself pulled into Itachi’s genjutsu for the fifth time.

A trio of ravens converged on him from where the boy had been sitting moments ago. Kakashi almost cried out when he felt their sharp beaks and talons tearing into his flesh, but he forced himself to disregard the illusion and attack the source. He closed his right eye and concentrated on the streams of chakra that he could observe only with his left.

 _There!_ He found the ripple in the pattern and slammed a burst of chakra into the weak point. He felt the reverberations of his attack and knew that he’d scored a solid hit, but rather than dissipating, the genjutsu shifted: the largest of the ravens swooped down and dug its claws into his eyes. The searing agony and sudden blackening of his vision did _not_ feel like an illusion, and Kakashi heard a low voice coming from somewhere ahead of him.

“You’ve done well to weaken him for me, Itachi. He doesn’t deserve to bear Obito’s legacy. I should have taken it back many years ago.”

Itachi murmured something in reply, and Kakashi panicked. When Fugaku, Itachi’s father and the Lord of the Uchiha, had seen his fallen clansman’s Sharingan in Kakashi’s eye, he’d nearly burned him alive. It had taken Minato, his two guards, and four elite ANBU to hold the man back, and Kakashi had still required two of the best medics in the city. The young soldier had survived only because of Minato’s order that the clan keep away from his protege. Even in death, the Yondaime Hokage’s word was law; no Uchiha had given him more than a scowl and a veiled insult for the last seven years. Until now. _Why did I come here? I should have known this would happen! Minato-sensei, help me!_

_Wait. Help me?_

Kakashi shook his head. He did not ask for help. It was something that Minato had both admired and chastised him for on a regular basis. “You slipped, brat,” he growled, reaching out with his chakra into the darkness that surrounded him. He found what he was looking for; he was still trapped in the Uchiha’s genjutsu. He searched for that infinitesimal ripple in the chakra structure of the illusion, but this time, there was nothing in the empty night to strike out at. Frightened now, he reverted to the genjutsu defense that he had learned before acquiring the Sharingan, a broad-spectrum fluctuation of his chakra to disrupt the opponent’s hold on his mind, but it had no effect.

Or almost none. Itachi’s soft voice echoed in the darkness around him. “The vulnerable point of the illusion does not have to be present as a visible interruption. I apologize if I gave you that impression.”

Kakashi snarled in frustration and lashed out toward the voice. They’d been at this for bloody _hours_ now. As every Uchiha seemed to insist on reminding him, his body was not truly compatible with the power of their kekkei genkai. It took far more energy for him to wield it, and he would likely never gain their level of precision with the doujutsu...and after the emotional left hook Itachi had just thrown at him, he was utterly exhausted. Still, Itachi had offered to train with him, something no other Sharingan user would lower themselves to, and in the weeks that they had been meeting together, he knew he was improving. He couldn’t waste this chance. He cleared his mind, stubbornly telling himself that his pounding heart and the pain building behind his eyes were only part of the illusion, not his body’s warning that he was pushing his limit.

 _There!_ He felt the hesitation in the flow of the Uchiha’s chakra, and though he couldn’t see it, he realized that he didn’t need to. Illusions could be cast over any of the senses; sight was merely the most familiar, the one he had been trained to rely upon above all others. By blinding him, Itachi had shown him the way to a new breakthrough in his understanding of Sharingan genjutsu. It was not selective, like the illusion arts that he knew. This was naturally all-encompassing, a simultaneous assault on all of the victim’s senses. He struck out with all of his remaining strength, and _finally_ , he felt the humming energy that embraced him waver erratically as the genjutsu shattered.

Itachi reappeared in front of him, doubled over and breathing hard with one hand against the wooden planks to support himself. A heartbeat later, an older boy with the pale skin and dark hair of the Uchiha bloodline appeared at his side. For a moment, Kakashi thought he could be Itachi’s brother, but he quickly discarded the idea. This young man was taller and stockier, easily towering over the slender Itachi. His hair was a mess of windswept curls and his dark, intelligent eyes canted upward at the corners, giving him a vaguely exotic appearance. A branch child, then, possibly not even of full Uchiha descent.

With a flick of his hand, the newcomer dispersed the small crowd who had gathered to watch their future Lord’s training. One girl, maybe ten years old, seemed reluctant to leave, but a woman dragged her back and half-carried her down a nearby alleyway. The older Uchiha boy’s eyes swept the deserted courtyard, and some of the tension went out of his jaw as he knelt beside Itachi, putting a protective arm around the heir’s trembling shoulders.

“You’re done, Hatake. Get out,” he ordered, but his hands were gentle as he brushed a few stray strands of hair from Itachi’s sweaty forehead. “Itachi-sama, look at me. Are you alright?”

Itachi shivered, but his eyes stayed down. “There was no need for you to interfere, Shisui-nii-san. This was my own failing. I’ve not had such a match for a very long time, and I resorted to some...perhaps regrettable tactics. I anticipated his reaction, but not the force of it.”

Shisui’s callused fingers slid down Itachi’s face and carefully lifted his chin. “When you won’t answer my questions, I’m inclined to assume the worst.”

His tone told Kakashi that if he wanted to live, he should have already started running. Not that it would matter much if this young man was truly Shunshin no Shisui, the infamous assassin and only other Uchiha to serve in ANBU. He slowly got to his feet, but he stumbled and had to latch onto the porch railing to stay upright. He took another cautious step back, waiting for the younger man’s attack.

But it didn’t come. Shisui seemed to have disregarded him entirely as he adjusted his arm to take more of Itachi’s weight. “Let’s get you out of this chill, sir.”

“You’re being foolish,” Itachi muttered, but he didn’t resist as Shisui drew him to his feet.

“Like hell I am,” the older boy said quietly. “Will you listen if I ask you to rest, or do I have to get Mikoto-sama to make it an order?”

Itachi grimaced and shrugged away from him. “I hope you will forgive my cousin’s rudeness, Hatake-senpai. Such disrespect does not become a son of the Uchiha blood. He will leave us now.”

Kakashi didn’t speak as the battle of wills between the two Uchiha boys played out in silence. Eventually, Shisui turned on his heel and retreated, but the malevolent flaring of his chakra told Kakashi that he had better sleep with a blade in hand.

“I won’t be far,” Shisui warned before he vanished into the air using his signature technique.

Kakashi watched as Itachi steadied himself, eradicating all signs of his brief moment of weakness. The shinobi he knew was back in an instant: calm, dispassionate, controlled. His right leg shook for a second before he forced it to take his weight, and then he was standing, seemingly comfortably.

“Did I hurt you?” Kakashi asked, still leaning against the railing.

Itachi’s eyes narrowed. Obito would have broken his nose for saying something like that. At the very least, he expected a sharp retort about how he couldn’t hurt the little tensai if he tried, but all Itachi said was, “You did nothing to warrant my cousin’s behavior, I assure you. How can one spar properly if he does not accept that he will emerge with minor bruises?”

 _When you won’t answer my questions..._ Kakashi frowned beneath his mask. Itachi had once spent seven weeks in a Kumogakure prison. He’d been half-starved, shivering and coughing from some violent fever. There wasn’t a scrap of skin on his body left unmarked, but the real damage had been strategically incapacitating: broken collarbones, one hand crushed, a shattered kneecap... It was a miracle that he hadn’t been left with any permanent damage, but he shouldn’t have had the strength to overcome his captors and fight his way free of that hellhole. Itachi could be on the verge of collapse right now, and no one would know until he hit the ground.

“Don’t bullshit me, soldier,” Kakashi said. “Are you okay?”

A hint of something unfamiliar crossed the Uchiha’s face for a moment before he mastered himself. “I do not understand your concern.”

“My _concern_ is that I just hit you with everything I had. My _concern_ is that you still haven’t said you’re alright. My _concern_ is that your fucking _bodyguard_ wouldn’t have stepped in if you were!”

“Let it go, Hatake-senpai,” Itachi said softly, making Kakashi painfully aware that he’d been shouting. “You fought well, better than I expected, but you do not yet have the ability to cause lasting harm through genjutsu alone. As for my cousin, he has always taken his duty to me more seriously than is necessary. I am merely...” He hesitated, searching for words, before he murmured, “I’m tired. Very tired.”

Kakashi blinked. For the Uchiha to admit even that much weakness was unprecedented, but... “You’re lying to me.”

Itachi’s lips parted slightly in what was, for him, an expression of open shock. “You should go.”

“Itachi,” he began, but the boy turned his back on him and walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Kakashi felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as he entered the Uchiha estate without Itachi at his side for the first time. Even Obito had never brought him here when they were children, saying that his family didn’t allow outsiders on their property without good reason. Now, though, the guard at the entrance let him through with little more than a warning flash of the Sharingan and a hand that casually settled on the hilt of his sword, having become accustomed to seeing him with the future leader of the clan. Kakashi didn’t hesitate as he stepped past the high wall that separated the clan’s near-sovereign domain from the little apartments and shops that had sprung up nearby. In the last few weeks, he had come to know the path from the main gate to the head family’s home, but nothing beyond that. As he took the time to observe the pristine white stonework, dark wooden architecture, and little flags bearing the red and white Uchiha crest, he couldn’t help but reflect on how different the compound was from the rest of the village. But then, the same could be said of its inhabitants.

He stepped up onto the porch of the manor house and raised a hand uncertainly, but he felt a warning crackle of chakra at his back before he could knock. He forced himself to turn slowly until he faced the Uchiha assassin dressed in full ANBU gear, sans mask.

“Itachi-sama can’t see you today,” Shisui said firmly.

Kakashi looked over his shoulder and heard one of Shisui’s hands brush the latch of his kunai holster. He turned back, suddenly uneasy. “Did I hurt him that badly?”

Shisui smirked. “Don’t flatter yourself. He’s busy, and he has no time to waste with tutoring a grown man.”

Kakashi saw the subtle shift in the Uchiha’s stance that told him to accept his words and walk away, truth be damned. A smarter man might have done exactly that, but Kakashi wasn’t just Itachi’s occasional training partner. He was his Captain, and if there was one thing all of ANBU knew about the Hound, it was that he protected his men at any cost.

“What’s happened to him?” Kakashi asked.

“Bored to death by paperwork, I expect,” Shisui replied smoothly. “Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s meeting with the clan council all morning.”

 _Liar._ “Then perhaps I’ll return this evening.”

“You’ll come back if Itachi-sama tells you to, not before.”

Kakashi met the Uchiha’s eyes, and knew, with the sharp instinct that had allowed him to survive a battlefield at the age of six, that if he pushed this young man any further, one of them wouldn’t live to see the sunset. This was more than the legendary Uchiha unity. Shisui, personally, was not someone to cross when it came to Itachi. He was already a renowned assassin; what was one more death in defense of his Lord’s son and heir? _What, exactly, does he need to defend?_ Kakashi thought furiously, tracing the instinct to its source.

“I did not expect to see you here, Shisui-nii-san, Hatake-senpai,” a soft voice said. “Might I inquire as to the occasion?”

Both shinobi whirled to see Itachi coming around the corner of the porch in a black and red formal kimono, his hair tied back in a higher, more traditional tail than he usually wore it. He certainly looked like he’d been in a council meeting all day, right down to the ink stains on his fingertips. Kakashi saw the older Uchiha move to run to his side before he turned the motion into a respectful bow.

“Itachi-sama, have you forgotten something?” Shisui asked as he rose. “You shouldn’t trouble yourself. I’m sure someone could have taken care of things for you.”

The boy took in the way Shisui’s hand never left his weapons holster, and Kakashi could almost _see_ the wheels turning in his mind as he sought for a way to take control of the situation. Itachi opened his mouth to speak, but he hesitated and then coughed lightly into the crook of his arm. Seconds later, Kakashi heard pounding footsteps from inside the manor, and the door flew open to reveal a younger boy.

“Shisui-nii, I’m sorry! Don’t be mad! I fell asleep, and I didn’t know he got up!” the child whined, latching onto Itachi’s legs with such force that he almost bowled him over. “Nii-san, why are you dressed? Shisui-nii said you’re on vacation, so you can’t go nowhere!”

Shisui glared, but not at the little boy. No, his gaze was directed at Itachi alone. The young heir sighed and settled a hand on the child’s head. “Hatake-senpai, I’m afraid I must ask you to leave. I have much to do, and it may be a few days before I am free to train with you again.”

“Itachi,” Kakashi said. The word carried ANBU steel in it.

Itachi’s eyes snapped up to his Captain’s, waiting. Calculating.

Wincing?

“Tell me what’s really going on here, Itachi-kun,” he ordered. The Hound protected his men. Even from themselves.

Itachi shook his head and leaned down toward the little boy still clinging to his waist. “Sasuke, go inside.”

The child wrapped his hands more tightly in the fabric. “No! I already screwed up once! Shisui-nii said not to leave you by yourself!”

“I’m not by myself, foolish otouto,” he said patiently. “Shisui-nii-san and Hatake-senpai are here. You should prepare for your taijutsu exam tomorrow morning.”

Sasuke blushed and peeked up at him. “You remembered?”

“Of course I did. Please, don’t let me be the reason that you fail to do as well as I know you can,” Itachi said.

The child beamed up at him and slowly unraveled his hands from Itachi’s clothes. “Will you maybe come practice with me?”

“Perhaps,” Itachi replied, but Kakashi caught the way his eyes flickered over to the two older shinobi before they returned to his brother. Apparently Itachi knew he wasn’t getting away so easily.

“You always tell me that. Perhaps. Next time. Forgive me,” Sasuke muttered. “Can’t you just say _yes?”_

One corner of Itachi’s mouth quirked up as he poked his brother in the forehead. “Forgive me, Sasuke. Perhaps I will say that next time. Go inside, now.”

Sasuke gave Itachi his best attempt at the patented Uchiha Death Glare, but he trudged away and closed the door behind him. For a long moment, it seemed that all three shinobi were equally unwilling to break the silence that fell.

Then Kakashi sighed. “Well?”

Itachi turned away, looking out over the porch railing. “Shisui-nii-san, I forbid you from harming Hatake-senpai in any way unless Sasuke’s life or your own is in immediate danger.”

“Prior commitments. You’re overruled,” Shisui said flatly.

The boy turned back, Sharingan blazing. “You will _not_ disobey me in this.”

“Do what you like, little cousin!” Shisui spat. “You’re more important than the bastard who killed my brother so he could steal his birthright. I won’t let him take you, too!”

Kakashi felt his heart stop. Kami, the things the Uchiha clan didn’t know. Couldn’t know. He and Obito had been more than squadmates. Young as they were, they had just begun to realize that what they felt for each other transcended anything like camaraderie, or even friendship. When Obito had begged him to take the only gift the Uchiha boy could give him, a memory to cling to, Kakashi couldn’t refuse. And he’d tried, tried hard, until he knew Obito had only seconds left in this world. Then he just couldn’t say no anymore.

He watched numbly as Shisui closed the distance between himself and the younger boy and gently laid a broad palm over Itachi’s eyes. Itachi didn’t jerk away as Kakashi might have expected, and when Shisui lowered his hand, those deadly crimson orbs had returned to hazy charcoal.

“You will not touch him,” Itachi said quietly. “Swear to me.”

“If I do, it’ll be justified. I can promise that much.” Itachi’s Sharingan flashed to life again at the words, but Shisui’s hand snapped back to its previous position as he shook Itachi slightly with the other.

“Shisui—”

“Enough of that,” he said, low voice shrouded by genjutsu. It was only his enhanced hearing that allowed Kakashi to perceive the sound at all. “Please, ‘Tachi. You shouldn’t even be on your feet yet, let alone trying to hold an A-rank genjutsu. I can _see_ the ripples in your kimono. You’re still in your goddamn nightshirt under all that, aren’t you?”

Kakashi’s jaw nearly hit the ground. That was genjutsu? If so, the Uchiha had clearly been holding out on him during their training sessions. He was sorely tempted to take a look with his own Sharingan, but he didn’t dare give away what he’d heard.

Itachi seemed frozen as the seconds ticked by, but then the tension bled out of his shoulders and Shisui’s hand fell away to reveal his closed eyes. “Hatake-senpai,” he whispered. “Leave.”

A chill went down the Captain’s spine, something beyond fear for his own survival. He had dealt with that almost daily for as long as he could remember. This, though... This he had experienced only a handful of times when he’d felt lives slipping through his fingers. Obito. Rin. Minato-sensei. Father. “Tell me what happened,” he pleaded.

“Go,” he said, his voice a little stronger. “Please.”

Shisui turned back to Kakashi, one hand still gently resting on Itachi’s arm. The other drifted to the hilt of the tanto strapped to his back, but he hesitated before he touched it. His eyes narrowed as he studied Kakashi, and the older Jounin saw the shift in his stance as he made his decision. Shisui put his hand back at his side. “I’ve got him. Get out.”

Kakashi felt the metaphorical slamming of doors at Shisui’s words, and he didn’t protest as the Uchiha assassin steered the younger boy inside. He didn’t doubt that Itachi was safe in Shisui’s hands, but he was no less worried. What was wrong with the boy? How badly was he hurt? And how had it happened?

Why would he hide it from him?

 


	4. Chapter 4

Kakashi’s mind lingered on the morning’s events as he scribbled his signature onto leave requests and mission reports without giving them more than a cursory examination. The more he considered it, the more he thought that Itachi had been hiding something from him for a long time now. He wasn’t sure what gave him this impression, but he knew better than to disregard his gut. Something was wrong, and it had been wrong for a while.

And then there was Shisui. Kakashi had always had an inkling as to which mask the Uchiha assassin wore, but the tense, protective manner he displayed with Itachi was so unlike the happy-go-lucky killer that Kakashi had come to regard as one of the most dangerous men in ANBU. Then again, perhaps Tiger wasn’t Shisui. Kakashi couldn’t be sure, having never taken a mission with the man, but everything fit. The approximate height and weight, the easy grace of his movements...and his preference for genjutsu-based attacks would fit with his Uchiha heritage.

Everything fit, except for the painfully cautious way that he had touched his future clan Lord, as if the slightest upset would shatter him into a thousand irreparable pieces. Tiger simply did not possess that sort of care for another living being. He might have once, but he’d lost it somewhere among the dead he left in his wake.

Kakashi shook his head and put the thought aside. Whichever mask Shisui wore, a more important question remained. What was he to Itachi? He had seen elders of the Uchiha clan bow to Itachi’s will when he was still a child too young to hold a kunai properly, yet Shisui openly defied him. _Like hell I am. You’re overruled. Do what you like, little cousin! Enough of that. Do I have to get Mikoto-sama to make it an order?_ And there was the way that he had silently commanded his clansmen to leave before he’d run to Itachi’s side, as if they weren’t permitted to see him like this. Or how he had put his hand over the young heir’s eyes when he’d activated the Sharingan to keep him from exerting himself. A mixed-blood branch child of the Uchiha had _no_ right, and Fugaku had reportedly killed men for less, yet Itachi allowed that kind of behavior without much of a fight. Twice.

Another thought tugged at the back of the Captain’s mind, and it took him a moment to tease it out. ‘Tachi. Shisui consistently addressed his future Lord properly, always as Itachi-sama, but then then he’d suddenly slipped. He might have written it off as a childhood nickname if he didn’t know that Uchiha Fugaku would never allow such an indulgence for his eldest son. Why did Itachi permit it? He shook his head and sighed. There was a piece missing somewhere, something that would make it all perfectly clear, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

 

By the end of the day, Kakashi had a throbbing headache, as much from the paperwork as the mystery of the Uchiha boys. When he carefully deactivated the wards over his apartment and shut himself in the cool darkness, all he wanted was a few cups of sake and a nap.

“Evening, Hatake,” a low voice called, and Kakashi had his ninjato in hand before his mind registered who the voice belonged to.

When he did, he tightened his grip on the weapon. Uchiha Shisui was sprawled out on the sofa with Kakashi’s copy of Icha Icha Paradise lying open on his stomach. Kakashi reached out with his chakra, inspecting the elaborate wards that he had built to defend his home, but all were intact. There was no way the Uchiha could have gotten inside. Hell, half those seals were designed by the Yondaime _himself_ when Kakashi was a child. “How...”

“I sincerely hope that this trash never comes within a hundred feet of Itachi-sama,” Shisui continued calmly as he brushed the book to the floor. “Sign this.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow and took the scroll Shisui held out to him. He flicked it open with one hand, not daring to sheath his blade, and his eyebrow inched higher. “You are aware that leave requests have to be submitted in person?”

“It was, Itachi-sama gave it to you at least two weeks ago. You simply lost track of time and forgot to sign it until he reminded you today.” Shisui’s tone was so sincere that Kakashi actually doubted himself for a moment.

“And why, precisely, should I authorize a week’s leave for unspecified ‘clan duties?’” he asked mildly.

Shisui stared back, and the temperature in the little apartment seemed to drop a few degrees.

He sighed and scratched out his name at the bottom of the page. “Is he okay?”

Shisui snatched the scroll out of his hands and pocketed it. “Would I leave his side if he wasn’t?”

“I think you’d do whatever you had to.”

The Uchiha assassin gave him a startled smile that quickly morphed into something more akin to a showing of teeth. “You’re right, I will.”

“Shisui...” he began.

“No,” Shisui snapped. “And I better not hear of you pestering him when he returns.”

Kakashi watched the Uchiha vanish into the night, presumably back to his clan’s estate, and to his future Lord. _Itachi, what the hell is going on with you?_

 

Gai was washing dishes when Kakashi arrived at his kitchen window later that evening. He unlatched the pane with a bemused smile and stepped away from the sink so Kakashi could hop over the running water. Gai calmly closed the window as Kakashi evaluated the dishes to pan ratio.

“Had a guest over?” he asked, earning an approving nod.

“Observant as ever, my genius Rival. Iruka-sensei came by to discuss one of his young pupils,” Gai said. “Apparently the boy has some sort of disability that makes him incapable of manipulating chakra in the traditional sense. He wanted to pick my brain for advice on compensating for his deficits through taijutsu, and I was happy to oblige.”

“Ah, I suppose you are the best person for him to consult.” Kakashi snorted to himself, pleased that the spitfire young sensei had seen through Gai’s befuddling personality and ridiculous-looking spandex suit. Gai’s unique taijutsu style caused him to move through air like water. The hampering effects of the standard uniform cost precious seconds that he, growing up in the middle of a war, had realized could mean the difference between life and death. Kakashi was a Chuunin when he’d figured it out and had promptly been torn about whether Gai had done it deliberately. When he’d accused the class freak of hiding greater intelligence, Gai had absolutely beamed at him. Their friendship truly started to solidify after that, when Kakashi learned to respect the other man.

Kakashi flopped bonelessly into a chair at the table, absentmindedly watching Gai’s brisk movements as he cleaned. He’d always thought it said something about a home’s occupant, which part of their defenses they chose to keep slightly more relaxed to encourage the arrival of guests. Gai’s kitchen—sunny, warm, and replete with the scent of the man’s cooking—was as welcoming as his flamboyant public attitude was deceiving. Few who met him would imagine that Gai had served in ANBU almost as long as Kakashi had. His unquenchable zest for life was part of what had earned him the Horse title, unflaggingly determined but not aggressive enough for Ox.

“What do you know about Crow?” Kakashi asked.

“Less than you, I’m sure.” Gai frowned and turned off the tap. “Why?”

“Searching for an unbiased opinion,” Kakashi said breezily, but Gai’s frown only deepened.

“Why, Hound?”

 _Because he’s twelve years old with more kills on his record that I had at fifteen. Because he lies like a career politician and I can’t read him. Because if I go snooping, I’m likely to end up taking my own life under the influence of Tiger’s genjutsu._ “I’m worried about him.”

Gai’s stern gaze relented somewhat. “Crow...he’s Pack to you?”

Pack. The word stunned him still, ANBU still, not even breathing. He could count the members of his pack on one hand, and half of them were long dead. _Minato-sensei, Rin, Obito. Gai._ _Tenzou._

He glanced at his left hand.

One finger twitched. _Naruto._ He’d never met Minato’s son, never had the courage to face those sky-blue eyes, but he’d always made it a point to look in on him. He’d slip into the orphan barracks every few weeks to make sure he was safe, and fed, and given adequate supplies for the Academy. Sometimes he’d leave the boy a few hundred yen or a book, whatever he had to hand.

A second finger moved. _Kushina-san_. The firebrand jinchuuriki had been the closest thing to a mother Kakashi could recall having. He’d hated her at first, thinking her brash and foolish and far too careless with her power, until he’d seen the way the tension flowed out of Minato whenever she came near. How Kakashi himself always let his hand drift further from his kunai holster in her presence. How Rin had curled her hair for the first time with Kushina’s help, and the night Obito had cried silently at the thought of a family that wanted him. She’d had a softening effect on them all (when she wasn’t beating the tar out of them).

He studied his third finger thoughtfully. “Yes. And I need to figure out what I’ve gotten myself into.”

Gai broke into a true, radiant smile then. It was disconcerting really, and Kakashi shifted uncomfortably under the weight of it.

“His name and lineage are widely suspected, and I’m inclined to believe the rumors,” Gai began. He didn’t ask for confirmation, which Kakashi appreciated. It wasn’t his secret to tell. “Like his namesake, he is clever and secretive, a natural intelligence operative. He keeps those around him at arm’s length, and he has never shown himself to be anything but a consummate professional. Even so, he places great value on human life. I once saw him spend an extra seven minutes layering a sleeping genjutsu over a target’s home to ensure that his squadron could retrieve the information they sought without bloodshed.”

Kakashi nodded, having observed the same tendencies in his reserved young squadmate. “He’s hiding something. He was hurt this morning—badly, I think—and he cloaked himself in a genjutsu to keep it from me. A family member threatened me into allowing him a week’s leave but wouldn’t say why.”

Gai raised a suggestive eyebrow. “And what cause would you have had to see him this morning, when both of you were off duty?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he admonished. “He’s been teaching me to use the Sharingan more effectively. I don’t think the Uchiha approve.” _One in particular..._

Now Gai looked genuinely troubled. “That seems unwise. I’m sure you remember the, er, _controversy_ you caused when the clan learned of your eye.”

“Too well,” Kakashi said wryly. The burn scars on his chest itched. “Still, I’m learning, and it hasn’t come to blows yet.”

“All the same, take care. The clans don’t appreciate having their secrets shared.”

“Alright, mom,” Kakashi drawled.

 


End file.
